Slughorn's Christmas Party
by closetcannons
Summary: Hermione attends Professor Slughorn's dreaded Christmas party with Cormac McLaggen. It may have made Ron jealous, but was it worth it? She faces dark consequences for her decisions as a night filled with regret takes an ominous turn. RxH
1. Dark Consequences

**Disclaimer: Some lines were borrowed from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, which is owned by J.K Rowling.**

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**Slughorn's Christmas Party**

For the thousandth time, Hermione smoothens out her dress- staring at the stranger that stood before her in the mirror. Once bushy hair, now sleek and tied back in a low loose bun. Small strands of gentle waves fall from the bun, framing her face delicately. All thanks to Sleekeazy's hair potion for witches.

Hermione's brown eyes stare back at her- heavy with the thick smudge that Ginny had let her borrow. She looked beautiful - _felt_ beautiful. If only she could hide the fact that she had clearly been crying earlier. Anger coils her stomach tightly as she recalls Ron mimicking her earlier that day in class. _How could he?_ She knew he could be a total complete git, but she didn't think he would take it that far. For Merlin's sake, _she_ was the one suffering here- always enduring his constant snogging with Lavender Brown. And now she was having to suffer the company of Cormac McLaggen to Professor Slughorn's dreaded Christmas Party.

It was her own fault, really. At the time, it seemed like a wonderful idea- no _brilliant_ to bring Cormac. Anything to anger Ron most. It was almost worth it too when she saw his face earlier at supper when she announced her honored guest. He looked as if he was about to belch slugs again. But now... now she felt as if she would be throwing up slugs at any moment.

Maybe she could tell Cormac she came down with a bad case of spattergroit... or was eaten by a Chimera. Anything to avoid this stupid party.

Sighing with frustration, she tugs the silky dress up again, trying to hide the amount of skin the dress revealed. To no avail- it slowly slid back down, revealing the fleshy swell of her chest. The pale pink dress was beautiful, but a bit revealing for her taste. Sleeves cover her arms, but the back of the dress seemed to be completely missing, revealing her lower back. The slit was cut high, revealing a little too much of her leg. She just couldn't win tonight.

"Your guest is waiting on you." Ginny stood in the doorway, causing Hermione to jump out of her skin.

"_Merlin_, don't scare me like that." Hermione muttered, flattening her dress again- fixating on her reflection before her.

"You look beautiful- and will you stop messing with that dress? It looks better on you than me." Ginny playfully slaps her hand.

"I'm just nervous." Hermione sighs, a wave of nausea washing over her.

"So. Remind me again when you and Cormac became a thing?" Ginny said, lifting an eyebrow to her, failing to hide the smirk that curled the corner of her lips. Of course, she knew this was all for show- If anyone, Ginny knew how much she despised McLaggen.

"Oh...you know. Long story." Hermione forced a smile- clearly failing to persuade Ginny. Nothing ever gets past her.

"Mhmm," Ginny said, squinting her eyes. "Just be careful, alright? I heard he's got more tentacles than a grindylow."

The blood drained from her face. With that thought, she slips her wand into her sleeve...just in case she would need to do some hexing tonight.

With a final look at her reflection, she turns to leave, making her way down the stairs leading to the common room. The soft murmurs in the common room go quiet. Her face felt hot as she could feel all the eyes on her. Below, Cormac waited for her -wearing some expensive-looking dress robe- likely given to him from his wealthy parents. Everything was handed to him in life- which explained a lot when it came to his smug cocky demeanor.

In the corner of her eye, she saw a glimpse of red hair that seemed to follow her every move- completely ignoring the spirally blonde headed girl that practically sat in his lap. Jealousy curls her insides- driving her to put on the best face she could muster.

With her best effort, she smiles brightly at Cormac who's mouth was already gaped wide open. His eyes swim all over her body- already drinking up her appearance as if he hadn't seen a woman in years. She had to do everything in her power to not cross her arms in an attempt to hide her skin.

Clearing her throat, she finally caught his attention.

"Cormac, you look handsome." she forced...a little too loud to make sure Ron could hear.

"Y-you look amazing." Cormac stammered, eyes dropping again to her figure.

The dress was a bad idea.

"Shall we?" Cormac said, hands already on her lower back- leading her out of the common room. Her skin burned where he touched her bare flesh. "You know, you should dress like this more often." He whispered low into her ear.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to roll her eyes at the offensive comment. Instead, she forced a faint laugh- but it died somewhere in her throat. Making note to herself to hex Ginny later for convincing her to borrow this dress.

Now that they had left her "stage", she quickly dropped the performance. She walks in silence as Cormac drones on about some vacation home in Iceland he is going to over the Christmas holiday with his father and some well-known wizard. She tries to nod at the appropriate times- but her mind was distant. Did Ron see her? What did he think? She wished she could have seen his face.

The sound of music and laughter began to hum through the halls, growing louder as they get closer to Slughorn's office. The aroma of food reaches Hermione, but the thought of eating makes her want to hurl. They walk into the party, taking in the atmosphere. The once small office seems to have expanded to be much larger. Crimson and emerald curtains drape the room, and a beautiful golden lamp glows the room with an amber-like ambiance. And what was that? Were those actual _fairies_ flying around? She stifles a groan. Why did it have to be so..._romantic_?

Immediately, Hermione's eyes start scanning the crowd of people looking for the familiar messy-haired best friend and the unforgettable Luna, but there was no sign of them. She starts to twist the fabric in her dress nervously. _Please_ get here soon.

"Ah, McLaggen, m'boy! Granger! Come, come. Please do enjoy the party, will you?" Horace Slughorn bellowed, cheeks red from liquor. "My dear, you look exquisite. Fire whiskeys and mead are on the table. Please do enjoy yourself!"

"Thank you, sir." Hermione smiled weakly as Cormac gripped her hand leading her to a table- taking down a fire whiskey. Smoke escaped his lips as he wiped his hand sloppily on his mouth.

"Want one?" Cormac offered. She looked at the small flaming liquid, questioning if she should partake. Legally, she was of age, but she had never had one before.

A little help wouldn't be so bad to get through the night, right? With a sigh, she takes the drink from his hand and dumps it into her mouth. Nearly choking, she forces down the hot liquid. Her stomach burns with the hot liquid. She had to admit, it did help the nerves a bit.

"Well, well, well, Granger. I didn't take you for a fire whiskey type of girl." He scans her up and down, her skin craws as he licks his lips lustfully. "You surprise me, you know? I like that about you." He says, slamming another fire whiskey down.

She smiles nervously, playing with her empty glass. Suddenly, his hand grabs her's tightly.

"So. Hermione, you're a smart girl. What made you finally come to your senses when you asked me out?" He winks, grabbing a goblet of mead from a passing house elf, struggling to balance the heavy plate of goblets.

Her cheeks grow hot. Maybe from anger, maybe from the fire whiskey. Maybe both. The nerve of him- calling _her _smart for coming to her "senses". This was by far the stupidest thing she had ever done.

"Oh...well I-"

"I'm just glad you were finally able to see that Weasel friend of yours was a total pillock." He said, eyes already starting to glaze over from the amount of alcohol he had taken so quickly.

"Don't call him that..." She murmurs, taking a sip from her own goblet. The warm liquid lines her stomach, making her cheeks flush.

"What? Don't tell me your still friends?" He scoffed. "Everyone knows you two haven't been talking."

"That is no one's business...Don't you think you should maybe slow down?" she stammers as he grabs another goblet of mead from a passing plate, and gulps it obnoxiously.

"You know- it's completely by chance he even made the quidditch team." he ignores her, slurping the mead loudly. Guilt bubbles within her as she recalls the confundus charm she had secretly cast on McLaggen to help Ron secure his spot on the quidditch team. It was reckless of her to have interfered the way she did.

"One time, I saved about 35 goals in a skirmish alone playing against some of the top Quidditch players. My father is friends with Ethan Parkin, you know. THE Ethan Parkin from Wigtown Wanderers. I got private lessons from a Parkin for years..."

McLaggen continues to recount his heroic stories of quidditch saves and private lessons with famous quidditch players, shoveling in food between stories. She feels her face twist in revulsion as he recounts a famous hunting trip, mouth filled with half-chewed pumpkin pasties, washing it down with another fire whiskey. His voice begins to slur as he continues his, _clearly_ exaggerated story. Hermione scoots to the edge of her seat, looking around for any sign of Harry and Luna - nervously wringing the fabric in her dress. She swore, if Harry didn't show soon, she would surely hex both of them by the end of the night.

"Then the little bugger finally died. Father got him mounted on the wall. 'pparently, Graphorns er' quite rare."

"That is barbaric." Hermione muttered angrily into her cup.

"Wha- was 'at?" McLaggen said as he stuffed another pumpkin pastie in his mouth.

"Nothing."

"Anyways, tell me- what all is in that pretty head of yours?" She had to stop herself from laughing at the ridiculous smolder he displayed. She began to gulp down her drink in an attempt to avoid the question. She had a feeling he wouldn't like her answer anyways. Suddenly, she froze as hands begin to slither up her leg, resting on her mid-thigh. Eyes wide, she begins to sputter on her drink as she choked.

"You alright?"

"Will you excuse me? I will be right back." Hermione stammers, walking away to look for Harry...and to get as far from Cormac as possible. She had never met such an arrogant pig.

Scanning the crowd, she looks around for any sign of her friends. A group of old warlocks can be seen in a corner talking intensely with one another through a hazy cloud- each puffing on pipes, blowing out billows of smoke. Coughing, she walks through the smoke and surveys a group of girls giggling as a pale-looking fellow stands somberly- eating a treacle tart with a look of disgust. She had heard there would be a vampire here- he must be the one.

Glancing back, she sees Cormac stumble to another table- gulping down another fire whiskey as she continues on, surveying the group of dancing people, but no sign of Harry or Luna.

This was miserable. Why was she even here? She should just leave. McLaggen was already getting so intoxicated he couldn't even stand without swaying. And he couldn't keep his grimy hands off of her. If he continued at this rate, he would surely get belligerent.

She dodges several house-elves carrying wobbling plates filled with drinks and foods. She grits her teeth as they scurried around, serving wizards and witches as if they were servants. It was foul.

The music grows louder as she makes her way across the room. Maybe they were dancing? She squeezes past a few famous-looking witches to the band and the dancing group, when a hand grips her wrist tightly.

"Ah, ther' you are, Granger. If you wanted ta-dance, you-shouldv' just said so." Cormac hiccuped, jerking her around so fast, strands of hair fell loose. He pulled her close, gripping her waist tightly- breath stinking of whiskey and dragon tartar. He sways awkwardly as his brute figure begins to blunder around, knocking into a couple who glares at them in return.

"I- I'm not much of a dancer." Hermione laughs nervously, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp.

"Don't be silly- yer great!" He bellows over the loud music.

"I- I think I'd rather get away from the crowd, too noisy and all." She says, wracking her brain for any excuse for him to let go of her.

"Ah, not one for crowds? Maybe we go somewhere more private then, yeah?" He winked.

Well, that worked out exactly how she pictured.

Brute muscles begin to herd her out of the crowd and behind a curtain- away from the people. Now, she wished nothing more than to be back in the safety of music and dancing. He spins her around, facing him. Hands gripped tightly against her waist, bringing her body close to his.

"Well, would ya looket' that, mistletoe." Cormac smirks, looking up. Hermione's stomach drops as she looks up to see the cursed plant hanging right above their heads.

"Yes, well we better get back-"

"Shhhh. You talk too much." he says, placing his finger on her lips.

If she wasn't so nervous, she would have burst out laughing. The fact being all night she barely squeezed in a word since he was so busy talking about himself.

Before she knew it, his sweaty hands were grasping her face, mouth diving into hers. Quickly, she turns away as his lips crash on the corner of her mouth. His fingers tangle into her hair, as she attempts to slip away.

"Bathroom! Excuse me." She belts out, before squirming her way out of his clutch and diving into the crowd. Her hair had officially fallen out, cascading down her back. Eyes dart around the room, desperate to spot the closest exit. Then she heard it. A familiar voice calling her name above the music and murmur of conversations. _Harry_.

She practically ran to him. A look of confusion drawn on his face at her disheveled appearance.

"Harry! There you are, thank goodness!" She beamed with relief. Next to him stood the doe-eyed silver-haired girl. She look around the room smiling, lost in her own little world. "Hi Luna!" she pants, snapping Luna back into reality.

"What's happened to you?" Harry raises an eyebrow.

"Oh- I've just escaped - I mean, I just left Cormac. Under the mistletoe." She said, tucking her hair behind her ear- cheeks going red.

"Serves you right for coming with him." Harry said, unapologetically.

"I thought he'd annoy Ron the most. I fully regret it. McLaggen makes Grawp look like a gentleman." Her skin crawls as she could still the indentions of his fingers in her flesh where he had grabbed her so tightly. "Quick, let's go this way. We will be able to see him coming, he's so tall..."

She grabs Harry's arm and drags them to the other side of the room near a swaying and very drunk Professor Trelawney. The smell of cooking sherry wafting to meet their noses. Luna, completely oblivious to the professor's state of mind, begins to chat happily with her over divinations.

Hermione continues to scan the crowd for a sign of Cormac, twisting the fabric in her dress nervously. She spots him in the distance, stumbling and looking behind curtains as if they were playing a fun game of hide-and-seek. Harry grabs Hermione's arm and pulls her away.

"Let's get something straight. Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?" Harry whispered intently.

_Seriously? Quidditch. Is this all men can think about?_

"Do you really think I'd stoop that low?" She said, raising an eyebrow annoyed, losing sight of Cormac. _Oh Merlin, where did he go?_

"Well, if you can ask McLaggen-"

"There's a difference," She hissed. "Don't worry, I've got no plans to tell Ron anything about - oh no, here he comes!" Cormac begins to tower towards them. Quickly, she dives towards a group of goblins in the middle of an intense game of exploding snap. Finding a stone pillar, she scurries behind it, narrowingly escaping Cormac's sight.

The cold stone feels good against her skin as she catches her breath. What was the point of this? This was pointless. Maybe Harry was right. She deserves this for bringing him to this ridiculous party. And all for what? To make Ron jealous? It all seemed so childish now.

"Excuse me, would you like a - _Hermione_?" Neville stands awkwardly, holding a plate of cornish pasties.

"_Neville_? What are you doing here?" Hermione whispered.

"I didn't get into the slug club, but it's okay. They've got Belby handing out towels in the loo and Gran said it would be good for me to try and meet a few... wait. Why are we whispering? Are you hiding?" Neville whispers intently.

"Uh. No. Just getting some air." She stammers, peeking around the corner to see Cormac chatting with Harry. "I mean, yes. If you see Cormac, can you tell him I've gone off to bed? Tell him I got ill or something."

"Uhh, sure." Neville peeks around- looking for McLaggen. "You better go, he seems to be looking for you."

"Thanks, Neville." Hermione smiles, bolting towards the door. She walks swiftly, pleading that McLaggen didn't spot her. Dodging a group of drunken goblins, she exits the stuffy room into the cold empty hallway. A sigh of relief escapes her as the sweet air of freedom fills her lungs.

She continues to walk faster, her footsteps echoing through the corridor as she makes her way towards the grand staircase. The hum of the music and laughter dying down as the distance grows. Relief floods her, filling her lungs with ease, it almost made her dizzy. Or that could be the mead and fire whiskey getting to her head. As she walks, her feet begin to ache as she makes her way down the long hallway. Passing a statue of armor, she pauses just a moment to slip off the torturous shoes, when she hears it. Blundering footsteps behind her growing louder.

_Oh no._

She turns to see a drunk Cormac, stumbling his way down the hallway.

"Granger, you sneaky little minx. Been playing hard to get all night, 'ave you?" he slurred, getting closer to her, leaning against the wall for support.

Seriously? Could he not catch a hint? She underestimated him. He was more cocky than she thought. He couldn't even recognize when a witch was trying to stand him up.

"Cormac, I was just-"

"Or was this just a trick to get me alone? Hmmm? Your so coy. I like that about you." He licks his lips, approaching her hungrily. The hair on her neck began to stand up.

"I- I'm a little tired, I think I'll just head to bed for the night." Hermione stammers, walking backwards as he approached her, a lustful hunger burning in his eyes. A fleshy arm stops her, blocking her from moving any further. Towering over her, he grips her shoulder hard. Fear washes over her body, like ice in her veins.

"But the party was just getting started." he breathed, the smell of liquor permeating the air and burning her nostrils. Her heart thumped loudly. Every instinct she had told her to run for it.

He shoves her behind the statue against the wall, head hitting hard against the stone- making her vision blur. The sleeve of her dress rips under his grip, revealing her bare shoulder. Hot breath suffocates her as he hungrily nuzzles her neck. Her heart pounds in her ears as he crushes his body against hers, pinning her against the wall.

"Cormac, stop. Your drunk." she grunts, trying to push him away. But his body only presses against her harder. He forces his mouth against hers, crashing his lips sloppily between her lips. She wants to gag. She tries to tell him to stop, but it comes out as a muffled squeak, which he takes as a sign of passion, slithering his tongue into her mouth. Her eyes begin to water as she struggles to fight him off, attempting to reach her wand in her sleeve.

Body stiffens as a hand begins to grope her chest while the other slithers up her dress, like a snake stalking its pretty. A wall of bile climbs up her throat, burning her insides. Panic takes over and she does the only thing she could think of. Gritting her teeth, she bites down hard on his lips, the taste of metal permeates hers. He backs away quickly, a hand cupped over his mouth.

"Not so rough Granger." Cormac mumbles.

Rage boils within her, ripping her body away from him, she rakes her hand against his face. Nails clawing down his right cheek, skin peeling beneath her fingernails. Red angry vertical cuts are left in its wake. Cormac grasps his face, grunting in pain.

"You _bitch_." He growls, grabbing her arm and shoving her against the wall. Blood begins to fill the trenches embedded in his cheek. Her heart pulsates, throbbing in her arm under his grip as she struggles to reach for her wand.

"OY! McLaggen!" Neville bellows, pointing his wand at Cormac's face. "Get your bloody hands off her."

Hermione heaves, pointing her wand at his throat. Cheeks wet with tears she had unknowingly shed. Cormac glares at her, then Neville before releasing her.

"Whatever. She isn't even worth it." he scoffs.

"_You_. You repugnant perverted arrogant pig!" Hermione growls, swinging a fist into the air, before Neville grabs her, restraining her from attacking him. She wanted nothing more than to hurt him, just like he had hurt her.

"Leave it, Hermione. Let's go." Neville says, putting an arm around her shoulder, leading her away from him.

"You don't know what your missing, Granger." He panted, blood trickling down his face.

"Piss off, Cormac." Neville yells as they make their way down the corridor, leaving Cormac stammering on about how great he was.

Humiliated. Violated. Revolted. She could feel bruises forming on her arms where he had grabbed her, a permanent imprint of his flesh on her skin. She could still feel his hand up her dress, crawling in between her legs. She plugs her mouth with two knuckles, holding down a throb of pain, stifling a sob as they walk in silence. She swallows the lump in her throat, but tears pour silently down her face. Neville stares at her in the corner of his eye, every so often to examine her.

"You okay?" Neville whispers gently.

Hermione shakes her head, cupping her hand over her mouth to smother her cry she desperately wanted to release. She wanted to scream. To break. To forget. To curl in a ball and cry. To pound her fists into the wall until they bled.

"He's an arse. Let's just get you back to bed, alright?"

She nods her head weakly, leaning on him to keep her upright.

Looking down at her hands, she sees dried blood caked under nails. Her mind goes distant, the world passing in fleeting flashes of scenery, stone walls and darkened windows, long empty hallways, and endless staircases. Rows of portraits looking back at her, concern etched in their face as they watch her pass by.

Neville mutters to the fat lady portrait and helps her step into the portrait- familiar red drapery surrounding her- bringing a small sense of comfort. She floats to the top of the stairs, Neville turns to her, saying something- but she doesn't hear it.

"Thank you." she forces her mouth to say, before turning away- entering the darkroom where she lies in a heap on her bed. Clinging tightly to herself, crying silently to sleep.

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**A/N: I know what your thinking. ****This is a bit dark. But I often feel like JK Rowling had toned down the books for the audience. I enjoyed taking this scene in a bit more of a sinister direction. Let me know what you think by leaving a comment. I'm debating a chapter two :) **


	2. Righting a Wrong

Ron lies in his bed, staring up at the maroon canopy that hovers above him. Images of her play in his head like moving pictures. Hermione. No words could describe how beautiful she had looked. Her smile- the way she beamed at _him_. The way he had touched her back so delicately, fingers gliding down her glowing skin. How he had whispered so gently in her ear, making her smile. They were the things Ron wished he could do to her.

"Wow, she looks stunning." Lavender had muttered in his ear.

He couldn't speak- he couldn't move. All he could do was watch as he guided her out the door.

"Won-Won, what's wrong? You look pale. Is everything alright?" She lay her hand against his forehead.

"I...I'm not feeling very well. I'm going to bed." He had managed to choke out.

"Oh no. Is there anything I can help with? Wait...Won-Won, where are you going?!"

He had been lying in bed ever since- replaying the scene over and over in his head. It was torture.

It could have been him. It _should_ have been him. Yet, he always found a way to screw it all up. Any chance he ever had with her was for sure ruined after the stunt he had pulled in Transfiguration class earlier that day. He doesn't know why he did it...all because of what? He humiliated himself with that spell and she laughed? It was cruel what he did. Why did he have to be such a _damn_ prick?

His heart ached. It throbbed in his chest, like a gaping dark empty wound. Longing to be filled, but nothing could ease it. It was agony. He buries his head in his pillow, fighting not to scream into it.

They are probably dancing close, he's holding her in ways he only ever dreamed of. Ron punches his pillow hard, growling like a wounded animal, fighting back the burning prickling feeling behind his eyes.

His own imagination was driving him crazy. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to know. Had to see for himself.

Ron rips the blankets off of him and jumps from his bed, stumbling to Harry's chest. Frantically, he digs through the droor of belongings until he found it. A folded blank piece of parchment. Surely Harry wouldn't mind him borrowing it, just for a short while. Taking out his wand, he lies the paper flat on his bed.

_"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_ he mutters.

At once, the ink begins to slowly spread throughout the paper, crisscrossing and fanning out onto every corner of the parchment. Long hallways and rooms begin to appear as well as the tiny moving dots, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing.

He can see Lavender and Parvati huddled close together in the girls dorm. Probably gossiping about Merlin knows what. There was a moving dot of Madam Pince, pacing the isles in the library. There was Belby standing in the men's loo. And there it was. Professor Slughorn's office, packed with all his very important party-goers. There were a few names he recognized - but many he didn't, and none he truly cared about. He only cared about one.

He scans the paper wildly, finger hovering over dot after dot until he found them. His stomach drops. They appear to be standing close, swaying in a crowd of others. Likely dancing. Just as he had imagined. Anger and sadness swell in his chest. His heart felt as if it would burst.

He chucks the paper across his bed, digging his hands in his hair. He presses his fingers hard against his eyelids, pushing his emotions into the back of his skull. Hard enough until little stars danced in his vision.

Images of them clinging to one another passionately play in his mind- Cormac's lips touching Hermione's. It was what he imagined doing to her when he snogged Lavender senseless. It wasn't fair for Lav, he knew that. But it made him feel wanted- _desired_. Something he had never felt before. It was selfish. And another reason as to why he was the biggest git to ever walk the earth.

He rubs his hands across his face anxiously, feeling the stubble that formed across his chin. He couldn't continue to torment himself like this. It had to stop. _He_ had to stop. There was nothing he could do. It was over.

Maybe a hot bath would help keep his mind off of this horrid night. Deciding to stop wallowing in his own self pity, he stands, slipping on his slippers and grabbing his bathrobe. As he makes his way to the door, he remembers the Marauders Map. He needed to put the concealment charm back and return it to its rightful place. He owed Harry that much.

He shuffles across the floor, and takes his wand out and lies it flat on the paper.

"Mischief Man-"

Wait. _What's this?_

Ron watches Hermione's footsteps huddle behind a wall with Neville as Cormac's footsteps stumble about, stopping at Harry. _Was she hiding? _Ron's eyebrows furrow as he watches the strange scene, trying to make sense as to what was happening.

Suddenly, Hermione bolts for the door. _Why was she leaving?_ He picks up the paper, and watches it anxiously as her footsteps move quickly down the hallway, not even slowing down for a moment. Maybe she's heading for the loo? No, she passed it- continuing to make her way down the hallway. Ron's heart begins to thud as he watches Cormac run into Neville, before quickly exiting the door, chasing after her.

_What the hell was happening?_

Ron continues to watch as Cormac catches up with Hermione. His face grows hot as he watches the two of them appear to have collided behind some sort of statue. Likely snogging. He wants nothing but to crumble the piece of paper and toss it into the fire- watching it burn. But then he sees it. Neville chasing after them.

_C'mon Neville. Stop them. Please._

Ron knaws on his fingernails while he watches the three of them stand there for a while... He tries to picture the scene in his head, but struggles to make any sense of it. What could possibly be happening? Confusion washes over him as he sees Hermione and Neville leave- leaving Cormac stumbling alone in the hallway.

His eyes are glued on the two dots who make their way down long hallways, winding staircases, to the grand staircase, then to the entrance of the common room. They should be coming in any second. Quickly, he scrambles to the door- peeking quietly through the crack as he watches Neville enter, holding up a disheveled stumbling Hermione.

Was she... _drunk_?

He squints his eyes, trying to get a closer look. Dark smudges wash down her wet cheeks. The sleeve on her dress completely tattered. Hermione appeared to be distraught. He would have taken joy in reveling in the facts that cleary, their night had not gone how Ron had pictured- but something wasn't right. He felt disturbed as he watched Neville help her up the steps- she clung to him tightly, knuckles white with strain. She was completely dazed. As if she wasn't truly present.

Ron could see her clearly now... something had gone very wrong. It took every ounce of control for him to not walk out there himself, demanding to know what had happened. He listened carefully as Neville guided her to her door.

"Hermione, did he hurt you in any way? Please. You can talk to me." Neville whispered gently.

_What did he say?_ Ron could feel anger pumping through his veins, his hands trembling with rage. What did he mean _did he hurt you?_ What the _fuck_ did he do?

"Thank you." he heard her whimper before turning around and floating through the door.

Neville stood there hesitantly, staring at the closed door for a moment before making his way towards their room- a look of deep concern etched into his face.

Ron sat on his bed, clenching his fists tightly. If Cormac did something, he would-

"What happened?" Ron demanded as Neville walked in. Neville stares at him, eyes wide as he scans the look of fury in Ron's face.

"McLaggen. Bloody perverted bastard was forcing himself on Hermione in the hallway. He got belligerent. Was so piss drunk he actually thought she wanted him." Neville begins to angrily take off his neck tie- chucking it on his bed.

Ron fumed. Anger washed over him like fire, he was blinded with rage. _Fucking_ perverted tosser. He would kill him. He swore it. Snatching the map, he looks for the location of McLaggen, scanning the paper wildly- eyes darting over the parchment. There he was. Exiting the hospital wing. He would find him.

Angrily, he puts on his shoes and throws a jumper over his head.

"Where are you going?" Neville asks nervously.

"Finding McLaggen."

"This isn't your fight, mate." Neville says, holding Ron's shoulder.

"IT IS! THIS IS ALL MY FAULT!" Ron bellows fiercely. Neville stares at him in silence - he could see the anger and sadness swimming in his wet eyes.

"Okay. Be careful." Neville surrenders.

Ron's body moves on it's own as he makes his way through stairwells and corridors. Heart pumping as he grips his wand tightly. He hated him. He despised Cormac more than anyone in that moment. How _dare_ he. How dare he defile her like that.

Turning a corner, he seems him. Cormac. Stumbling like a tosser, holding his face in pain. Moans escape his mouth as he makes his way down the hallway.

"OY! CORMAC!"

Cormac's head jerks up, squinting his eyes in confusion. A bandage covers his right cheek- blood seeping through the cloth like blots of dark red ink. _Did Hermione do that to him?_ Pride swells through him as he pictures the moment she had slapped him across the face- nails digging into flesh.

"Weasley? What the hell d'you want?" he scoffs. "You know what- I don't really care. I've had a rough night, so I'd appreciate if you-"

Ron shoves Cormac's chest hard into the wall, the sound of flesh hitting stone echoes through the empty corridor.

"What the bloody _hell_, Weasley." Cormac grunts.

A swelling red fire builds inside Ron, licking up the walls of his consciousness, melting all reason. He wanted to hurt him. He wanted to punch him in his pretty face. To show Cormac's true nature - the ugly coward he really was.

"Don't you _ever_ touch her again." He growls.

"Getoff me." Cormac struggles.

"You hear me? Don't _fucking_ lie a finger on her or I swear I will break every single one of them." Ron grits through his teeth, shoving him harder into the wall.

"Alright- alright. I won't touch her." He surrenders, cowarding behind his hands. The smell of alcohol reaches his nose. He grimaces at the thought of his disgusting body against Hermione's. Disgusting pig.

"Please. Let me go." Cormac whimpers, spittle gathering at the corner of his mouth. How he made it into Gryffindor, Ron would never know. Ron shoves him onto the floor, letting go of Cormac as he scurries back up on his feet. Ron turns away- breathing heavily through his nose, trying with every ounce of his being not to beat his face in.

"I don't know what you see in her anyways. She's dull. Prude. She's not even that pretty." Cormac says smugly, wiping dust from his expensive dress robes.

Ron unhinges. Clenching his fist, he turns to Cormac and slams his fist into his nose, a sickening crunch echoing throughout the corridor followed by Cormac's howls. Crimson flows down his face as he grips his nose in pain. He rocks on the floor, crying like a baby.

"She is _everything _to me." Ron cries, before turning away- leaving Cormac wailing on the floor, sounding worst than Moaning Myrtle.

_She is everything to me._

The thought resonates in his head. She was truly everything. Beautiful, kind, selfless, humble, and not to mention wicked smart. He loved her. He knew a long time ago he did. That's why he had to find a way to make things right again. And punching Cormac in the face was a start.

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**A/N: I love writing Ron as the hero :) I liked envisioning him trying to right his wrongs. ****Let me know what you think by leaving a review and/or marking it a favorite! It pushes me to keep writing ! Feel free to offer some ideas for RxH one shots and I can try and stew it over and come up with some more stories ! **


	3. Happy Christmas

**A/N: Okay, okay. I heard you all. I went ahead and put together one more chapter, but this will be the last one :) we all know how the story ends with these two. I hope you enjoy!**

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Hermione sits alone at the table, playing with the untouched porridge in front of her. Frowning into her bowl, the thought of eating makes her queasy. Swallowing back a wave of nausea, she gingerly sips the cold pumpkin juice, attempting to nurse the dull pain that throbs in her head. She didn't know if it was from the amount of alcohol she had consumed the previous night or Cormac slamming her into the stone wall. Probably both.

Dark bruises imprint above her wrist, the perfect outline of Cormac's thick fingers wrapped around her pale skin. Delicately, she traces the marks with her finger- a shiver runs down her spine. Self-consciously, she tugs her jumper sleeve down, covering the ugly purple marks. The porridge begins to blur in her vision as her eyes fill with unshed tears. With a shaky breath, she wipes her eyes on her sleeve, refusing to cry.

The echoes of goodbyes and farewells fill the Great Hall as everyone begins to depart for the Christmas Holiday. Luggage lines the wall, waiting to be packed onto the train. At least she would be going home today. For once, she looked forward to leaving this school and spending the Holidays with her family. _Anything_ was better than staying here one more day.

Never has she ever felt so alone in this school. It used to be her home. Now...now it was just an empty shell.

The high pitch squealing can be heard from across the room as Lavender screeches her goodbyes to Ron. Just when she thought her headache couldn't get any worst. She grimaces, holding her forehead.

"Hey! You disappeared last night from the party." Harry sat down next to her, shoveling some porridge down his throat.

She forces a smile, but her eyes say otherwise. "Sorry about that, I went off to bed early. Started to feel ill. Must've been the fire whiskey..." she trails off, seeing Lavender fling her arms around Ron's neck. She goes back to stirring her cold porridge.

"Well, we're just about to take off for the Burrow, but I need to tell you something I overheard last night at the party-"

Hermione stopped listening as Lavender and Ron began to snog passionately behind him. Grief throbs within her chest as the two of them embraced furiously. Nausea overwhelms her as she watches the sickening display of affection. Weakly, she sips her pumpkin juice, the sweet juice now tasted sour in her mouth. She wanted to hurl.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm? Sorry, Harry. What was that last part?" She stumbles apologetically. Harry's eyebrows furrow, a look of concern reflected in his eyes.

"It's alright. Too long to explain anyways. I'll tell you when we're back from holiday."

"Mmm." she responds, absentmindedly.

"Hermione, you okay?" He asks, squeezing her hand softly. Warmth fills her chest as she stares at this young man she has called her best friend since she was an eleven-year-old girl. Before she knew it, she was hugging him tightly- wishing that he could stay with her a little while longer.

"I'm fine." she lied. "Have a Happy Christmas, Harry."

"You too." He squeezes her back. With one last nod, he walks away, Ron trailing closely behind him and Lavendar nowhere to be seen. _Good_. She didn't think she could bear that squeaky voice for another second.

"Mate, I think I forgot something- I'll be just a second. Don't wait up!" She heard Ron say to Harry.

Why was she eavesdropping anyways? She didn't care what he did. The break would be good for her. She wouldn't have to worry about avoiding Cormac nor suffer through Ron and Lavendar's snogging fests. Turning back to her porridge, she takes her spoon and slops the gray goo back into her bowl.

"You ever gonna eat that?" Ron says gently next to her. She jumps, flinging her spoon as it clatters on the table. Her heart thumps as the familiar redhead sits closely next to her. What could _he_ possibly want from her? She ignores him, glaring into her bowl.

"Come to mock me some more, have you?" She grumbles under her breath.

"No- um. Quite the opposite, really."

"Just leave me alone." She sighs, too exhausted to argue with him.

"Look. I... I wanted to say sorry. For yesterday." Ron says intensely, his face rigid with seriousness.

Hermione glares at him. Sorry? _Sorry_?! She had the worst night of her life, she wasn't ready for forgiveness. No. Far from it. She _loathed_ him. Loathed him for making her feel this way. Loathed him for what she had to endure last night. She was angry. Hurt. Humiliated. _Violated_. It wasn't his fault, she knew this. It was her own stupidity. But she was hurting and he was right there in front of her. She wanted to make him feel her pain, even if it was just a taste.

Just as she was about to unleash on Ron, she freezes. A cold blanket of fear drapes over her body as the sulking figure of Cormac McLaggen shuffles into the Great Hall. Long angry red gouges rip through his cheek, but it wasn't the gruesome cuts that shocked her. It was his _face_. Her eyes widen as she surveys his swollen bruised nose paired with two black eyes. He looked like he'd just wrestled a mountain troll. And lost. _Surely_ she didn't do that too him last night..._did she_?

Hermione could see students staring at Cormac, gawking at the state he was in. Murmurs hum through the great hall as people point and stare, whispering to one another. Cormac goes red, as he scans the room. His bloodshot eyes meet hers and he scowls. Her heart races. Phantom hands crawl over her body, groping her chest, slithering between her legs. She couldn't breathe.

Ron turns to see what she was fixated on, his body goes rigid as he clenches his fist tightly. _What happened to his fists?_Her eyebrows furrow as she notices the bloodied knuckles. Where once was freckles now was black and blue as if Ron had punched a brick wall.

Cormac marches over towards them, nostrils flaring. Ron quickly stands before her, reaching for his wand.

"Watch your back, Weasley. You'll pay for what you did." Cormac spits.

"Yeah?"

"Wait till my father-"

"Don't embarrass yourself anymore than you have to, mate." Ron says coolly.

Cormac looks around, the silence of the room dawning on him. With a glower, he stomps away muttering curses under his breath, shoving a poor 2nd year out of the way as he exits the room.

Hermione gawks at Ron, confusion and shock making her brain fuzzy. Her mind races, attempting to make sense of the scene that played out before her. The black eyes. The bruised freckled knuckles. She puzzles as it all begins to click, making sense of it. She stares at Ron, eyes gleaming with a million questions.

"I know we're rowing - still are." he corrects himself. "Hell, you know I can keep this up a lot longer. I plan on it, don't get me wrong. But I... _damn it_ Hermione, I still _care_ about you." his voice waivers slightly.

It was the closest they had been in ages... she could count the freckles on his cheeks and could see the blue streaks in his eyes, an intensity burning within its very core. She swallows hard.

"But why did you... _how_ did you-"

"Doesn't matter." he shakes his head. "I need you to know that no matter what, I'm _always_ going to watch out for you."

She stares at him in silence. Emotions swirling with confusion.

"Anyways. I just wanted to say I am _truly_ sorry for yesterday." he stands from the table, taking the warmth of his body with him and leaving a cold void in her wake. She didn't want him to leave. Not yet.

"_Wait_." she chokes, managing to grasp his wrists as he turns away.

He pauses, looking at her intensely. Blue eyes dart over her face longingly. Almost as if he was anticipating her to say something.

What she wanted to tell him was she was sorry. Sorry for the way she had been acting towards him. Sorry for her foolish jealousy. Sorry for attacking him with the birds. At the moment, she didn't even care about Lavendar anymore. She just wanted her best friend back. She missed him. Missed him more than anything. But she couldn't bring herself to say it. Trepidation cripples her as she swallows the lump in her throat.

"Happy Christmas, Ron." Hermione says softly, hand dropping from his wrist, falling limp in her lap.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione." Ron smiles weakly, eyes stricken with a hint of sadness.

Ron turns and walks away, leaving her alone once again. Sitting in silence, she sighs to herself, already longing for the Christmas break to end.

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**Please leave a review in the comments to let me know what you think. If you love RxH oneshots and fanfics, I encourage you to check out some of my other stories :) **

**Feel free to offer new ideas, I love to be challenged to come up with new one-shots. ****Thanks for all the support. **


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